


Soldiers in Winter

by skinnysteven



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Anal Sex, Confusion, Depression, Healing, M/M, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Rimming, these boys i can't, tissue worthy love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-12
Updated: 2015-05-20
Packaged: 2018-03-17 11:30:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,748
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3527750
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skinnysteven/pseuds/skinnysteven
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve feels Bucky’s breathing deepen, evening out, and he can’t help himself from pressing one last feathery kiss to his head, whispering, “I love you” into the silence of their room.</p><p>or</p><p>Steve Rogers will spend the rest of his life making sure Bucky Barnes knows just how much he loves him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys! Feedback is appreciated and thank you for even clicking on this one, even if you don't read. It will get much more explicit as the chapters roll on. Bucky's healing process and their love takes some time. Hot chocolate helps.
> 
> My tumblr name is skinny-steven, so come say hey over there if you want!
> 
> Andrea xo

Steve comes shuffling back into the living room, arms filled with firewood. He walks over to the wide, grand fireplace; setting the wood down in front of it so he could take off his coat and gloves before building a much needed fire.

  
“I’m going to make coffee.” Steve hears from the other side of the room, making him jump out of his skin.  
Steve spins around to see Bucky, looking uneasy, standing in the doorway that leads to the kitchen. How had Steve not heard him approach?

  
“Okay, Buck,” Steve responds, eyes lingering on Bucky’s tense posture, making him wonder what’s bothering him.

  
“You’ll have coffee, too,” Bucky says, nodding curtly, what seems like to himself, before silently turning back into the kitchen.

Oh, right. Yeah. Ex-assassin. A soldier who has clearly been suffering from PTSD the moment he and Sam finally came across Bucky in Manhattan four and a half months ago. A man who still feels out of place in his own skin. Steve lets out a tired sigh and puts his coat on the couch nearest him, then turns back to the fireplace. It had taken Bucky over two months to even get a little bit comfortable with being near other people, holding a conversation, however short or long, and then leaving the Avenger’s Tower, even if it was just to get some coffee at the little café across the street that he seemed to like. Now it was just Steve and Bucky, alone, in a cabin in the Adirondacks in upstate New York. Granted, the cabin was owned by Tony Stark so it was much too big and way too modern for it to be anything normal to what an actual cabin should be, to Steve anyway, but nonetheless he was grateful to Tony for letting he and Bucky use it.

  
Steve was just about finished arranging the wood that he had just lit so the fire would burn evenly when Bucky silently returned to the living room, two steaming mugs in hand. He walks over to Steve and offers the mug that was meant for his friend, just as Steve was straightening up and brushing his hands off on his jeans.

  
“Thanks, Buck,” he murmurs gratefully. He never asked for a cup, but that didn’t mean he was going to offend Bucky by not accepting something he made, especially something he made all on his own.

  
Bucky gives him a small, shy smile, looking down at his feet for a moment in response, before taking a sip from his own mug.  
Steve wants to ask him what was wrong, but he knows that he shouldn’t push Bucky. He needed to let Bucky come to him so he would never feel backed into a corner again. He must have another headache, which happens way too often for Steve’s comfort.  
Instead of picking at the wounds Steve knows Bucky is still undoubtedly suffering from, he takes a sip of his own coffee too. It has just the right amount of cream and sugar. It touches Steve that Bucky had learned how Steve took his coffee now, and remembered how to make it, which was very different from how Steve took it before the war. They could rarely afford to have both milk and sugar in their coffee back then. They both had learned how to drink it black. Bucky still did.

  
“Do you want to watch some TV and relax or help me make dinner? I thought we’d just do spaghetti with garlic bread tonight, if that’s okay.” Steve starts moving towards the couch to grab one of the five remotes that controlled the massive TV above the fireplace. He just assumed that laying down might help Bucky’s headache, which he was clearly trying to hide from Steve.  
“I would like to help you, if you don’t mind,” Bucky says softly, shifting his weight to his left foot and then looking down at his feet again when Steve turns back around to face him.

  
“Yeah, yeah of course, Bucky. That would be great. Want to make the garlic bread?” Steve gives him a comforting smile, putting the remote down and walking backwards towards the kitchen. Bucky nods again, looking up, and some of the tension leaving his shoulders as he follows Steve, pinching the bridge of his nose as Steve turns around when they enter the kitchen. Steve catches that anyway, making a mental note to make Bucky some chamomile tea after dinner.

  
An important part of Bucky’s recovery was that he voice his own wants and opinions whenever he felt like it, and then eventually learning when to do so and what was appropriate. It was also important for everyone else in Bucky’s life to give him a choice and to never order him to do something so he would eventually learn how to be independent again, in all aspects of life. If he wanted to lie down he could. If he wanted to help Steve cook he could. If he wanted to do both or neither that was okay too. Bucky needed to feel unrestrained and disconnected from the horrors he went through in order to learn to live with what had happened to him. Steve’s jaw still clenches tightly when he thinks about it.

  
Steve also made it very clear that he would always be there to support Bucky every step of the way, into a positive future that was entirely of his own free will. Cutting or not cutting garlic bread was just as important as Bucky deciding to come on this trip at all. Everything mattered and Steve would do everything in his power to make sure Bucky never had to endure anything that he didn’t approve of again. His heart swells at even the smallest of Bucky’s victories, making coffee included.

  
~

  
Bucky makes his way over to where the bread was on the counter and searches the cabinets beneath until he finds the cutting boards. He enjoys helping Steve with things. Folding laundry, cleaning, cooking, and even filing paperwork for the missions Steve goes on. It soothes him and gives him a purpose. His mind is so overly active, constantly surveying his surroundings and the people in it. Always alert, but these days it just makes him feel like a bundle of high-strung nerves with no release in sight. It gives him a constant headache, unless he was next to Steve, preferably chopping up vegetables or something similar to that. Steve was still a bit of a stranger to him at times, but as his memories come back he remembers just why this man was his best friend. Is, still is his best friend. Just last week he even realized how he easily someone could love Steve, even if he couldn’t find the right way to express that to him. He quickly shook his head, concentrating on the task at hand. He instinctively bent down to retrieve the knife he kept in his boots, but stopped when he saw see Steve glance at him out of his peripherals. He quickly straightened up and moved to scan the countertop for a proper culinary knife, realizing his mistake before Steve could point it out. He didn’t see any knives on the counter.

  
“I , um, can you. Can you help me find a –”

  
“I think I saw a serrated bread knife right…here,” Steve interjects, opening a drawer he had opened earlier when he was looking for a wooden spoon. He walks over to Bucky, handing it to him with another soft smile. Bucky would do anything for those smiles, but he preferred not to get them because of a mistake he made.

  
“Sorry,” Bucky mumbles, taking it. Steve turns back to the stove where he was cooking pasta, giving it a stir.

  
“It’s alright, Buck. You have nothing to be sorry for. Old habits die hard, is the saying, I think,” he assured him, opening a jar of sauce as he did.

  
Bucky still felt foolish for even doing something like that. He should know better and not make those kind of mistakes. He was trained not to make mistakes. He was trained to complete the task assigned to him without flaw. He –

  
“I think I’m going to go lie down for a few minutes,” Bucky states suddenly, setting the knife down on the counter. Steve turns to face him, concern stretching across his forehead.

  
“Buck—”

  
“I’m fine, Steve. Just a little lightheaded. I’ll be back in 10 minutes,” he tries to reassure him, knowing he probably just failed at that too. He quickly hurries out of the kitchen to find solace in his room, but he ends up in Steve’s after taking the stairs by twos. He curls up under the covers, hoping his mind would just give him peace, even just for a minute.

  
~

  
Steve grabs the wooden spoon and stirs the drained pasta into the sauce, letting out another sigh. He hates when Bucky gets upset with himself over small things, but he understands why. Making mistakes or even doing something silly was something that hadn’t been apart of his life in decades. He hadn’t had any room for error or else, well, Steve didn’t want to think about those things right now else he snap the spoon in half. All he wanted to do was scoop Bucky up and hold him close. Protect him from the world and reassure him that he was doing his very best, and that was just fine. No one expected him to be healed over night. Steve didn’t even expect that to happen for several years, if ever. But the urge to run up the stairs and just wrap his arms around Bucky seemed like something that was constant, though he knew he had to be careful about that. Bucky would come to him, usually during the night, crawl under the covers, and silently curl into Steve’s side, the lightest of skin on skin. They never spoke about it, but it was something that Steve held dear to him. Something that helped him get from day to day, knowing Bucky needed him just as much as he needed Bucky. He just felt helpless when he couldn’t put his best friend back together properly, especially seeing Bucky's tense, nervous nature during waking hours.

  
He puts a lid over the pasta so it would stay warm and turns the oven off so the bread won’t burn. He makes his way out of the kitchen, quietly climbing the stairs to Bucky’s room so he could wake him for dinner. When he gets there, he finds it empty, but that didn’t really surprise him. He wanders down the hall a little to what was supposed to be his own room. He carefully opens the door, eyes instantly falling to the bed where Bucky was asleep. It was rare that he got restful sleep, and it seemed it usually only happened when he was with Steve. He leaned against the doorframe to watch him for a moment, realizing just how exhausted Bucky must be.

  
His gaze lingers on Bucky’s face, where the tension had eased and his long hair fanned across the pillow. He looks peaceful and Steve’s heart clenches because that’s all he wants for his best friend. He wants him to know peace and, well, love. He hopes he can get the love bit across to Bucky without overstepping and scaring him away. After all this time, Steve’s heart still skips a beat just looking at Bucky. He steals himself a few more moments before moving away from the door to walk over to the bed, murmuring Bucky’s name so as not to startle him.

  
Bucky shifts and opens his eyes a little as Steve approaches the bed, peaking out at him from behind the covers.

  
“Hey, pal,” Steve says gently, sitting down on the bed. “I just wanted to come check on you and let you know that dinner is all ready, if you are hungry. I’ve also made you some tea.”

  
Bucky looks up at him for a second and then nods with a small smile, looking a little better, and stomach rumbling at the mention of dinner.

  
“Can we eat dinner in the living room?” he asks Steve, sitting up slowly and pushing his hair out of his face.

  
“Yeah, of course we can,” Steve assures him, giving him that fond look again. “C’mon.” He reaches out carefully to offer Bucky his hand and helps him out of bed.

  
~

  
“Bucky?”

  
He holds his breath, but feels Bucky roll over after a few seconds, the light from the moon helping his eyes finding Steve's in the darkness of the room.

  
“Yeah, Steve?” His voice sounds gravely and sleepy and Steve has to fight back the urge to close the gap between them.

“I just want to tell you that you can, you know, tell me anything. You know that, right?”

He sees Bucky’s head nod against the pillow.

  
“Okay. Good. I just wanted to make sure you knew that.”

  
Bucky just stares back at him, and he can feel his warm breath against his face. They are just inches apart. Steve has to turn over before he does something stupid. He starts shifting onto his back –

  
“Steve?” His name is breathed so softly that Steve almost misses it.

  
“Yeah, Buck? What is it?” He looks back over to Bucky’s face. He hasn’t moved an inch.

  
“Have I ever kissed you? I can’t – I can’t remember,” he asks with a tired sigh.

  
Steve feels his chest tighten and pulse quicken as his brain and heart process what Bucky just asked.

  
“Um – uh – no, Buck. No, we’ve never kissed before.” It comes out a little strained and he hopes Bucky doesn’t read too much into that.

  
“Sometimes, I think I remember that we have, but I’m just dreaming… Or maybe my brain is just making something up,” he murmurs into the dark space between them.

  
Steve shifts around a little on his side, trying to wrap his head around Bucky thinking about the two of them kissing. It’s not like Steve has never thought about that before, of course he has, but it’s not something he ever planned on voicing to Bucky.

  
“Do we, uh… Do we just kiss?” Steve asks, tentatively.

  
Bucky shifts now too, adjusting his pillow as he does. “Yeah, just kiss. You, um, you hold my face with both hands… We’re always outside and it’s snowing. I’ve got a blue coat on and you have your shield.”

  
Steve stills immediately, not even breathing as he stares back at Bucky. “Are we in the mountains?” He asks so quietly he’s not even sure Bucky could hear him.

  
“I think so. It’s always blurry. I think I’m supposed to jump or something, but you always kiss me before I do and then I always wake up, or come back to reality. I always thought it was a memory…” If Steve knows Bucky at all he immediately knows that Bucky’s voice drops a bit to indicate disappointment, which perplexes Steve a little. He takes a deep breath before he tries to clear up Bucky’s confusion.

  
“We have never kissed, Buck, but to me… This sounds like the day you… Fell.” His voice gets thick and now Bucky is the one to still next to him. It takes him a few moments to respond.

  
“So you think my brain is just making this up? That I’m just confused?” He sounds hurt now and Steve wants so badly to close that gap between them, to wrap his arms around Bucky and soothe him. Take it all away, and ease his racing, tangled thoughts. His own brain is racing when his response tumbles out of his mouth.  
“I’m not sure, Bucky. Is it… I mean, do you think it’s something you want? With me, I mean. That might explain why you –”  
Bucky is scrambling up, caught in the sheets and trying to desperately to get out of the bed.

  
“Buck, hey its alright, hold on a second,” Steve pleads, scrambling up now too after him. Buck gets free and is rushing into the bathroom and leaning over the sink, breathing erratically. Steve comes in to stand behind him, not knowing what to do, but desperately wanting to help even more.

  
“Bucky –”

  
“What is wrong with me?” He says, voice cracking weakly and his shoulders heaving as he starts sobbing, which Steve has only experienced a handful of times up until now. It never feels any less awful for both of them.

  
“Nothing, there is absolutely nothing wrong with you,” Steve says, instinctively reaching out to touch Bucky’s flesh shoulder, but stilling as he quickly realizes what he does. It takes Bucky all of two seconds to spin around and bury his face into Steve’s chest, wrapping his arms around Steve’s middle, and letting out sobs that literally rip Steve’s heart in two.  
He is stunned for a moment, but he automatically wraps his arms around Bucky too, pulling him closer and pressing his face into his hair.

  
“Shh, it’s alright. I’m here, I’m right here, you’re okay,” he soothes, rubbing his hands over Bucky’s shaking back. His tears are dripping down Steve's bare chest, but he couldn't care if he had to. “There is nothing wrong with you. It’s okay, I promise.”  
Bucky clutches even tighter, and turns his head to the side, looking at the shower. “But you don’t want to kiss me and now you are going to hate me and I’ve only just got you back,” his voice is thick and wet, and breaks at the end and if Steve even has functioning heart left it doesn’t matter because Bucky’s pain is tearing him apart.

  
“I never said that, Buck,” he whispers into his hair, before he can even think about it.

  
Bucky stills for a moment, clearly processing that, and then moves his head to look up at Steve, who automatically looks down at Bucky with a weary smile.

  
“Really?” He asks, stunned, tears still trickling from his grey eyes, sniffling softly, making Steve fall in love with him even more, if that was even possible.

  
“Yeah, Buck,” he murmurs, nodding gently. “It’s okay to think about kissing me. I’ve... I've been thinking about kissing you for as long as I can remember,” he admits too, searching Bucky’s eyes for his reaction to that.

  
“Can you?” Bucky asks in such a small, watery voice that Steve doesn’t register what he says at first.

  
“Can I what?” He asks, still rubbing soothing circles along Bucky’s spine.

  
“Kiss me?” He breathes looking down for a second, and then back up to meet baby blues.

  
Steve slowly pulls his arms from around Bucky’s back and brings his hands up to Bucky’s face, gingerly holding his head in his hands, softly wiping tears with his thumbs. There is only inches between their faces and all it takes is for Steve to look at Bucky a moment longer with so much affection, and then leaning in to tenderly press his lips to his best friend’s. He tastes like salty tears, minty toothpaste, and coming home. Bucky breathes in and then sighs, melting into Steve’s bare chest. Steve gently presses Bucky back against the countertop of the sink, and Bucky fumbles behind him to hoist himself up to a sitting position, lips still molded to Steve’s. He parts his legs and Steve steps between them, filling up Bucky’s space. He can’t get enough, but is panicking that this all might be too much for Bucky. He, albeit reluctantly, pulls away slowly, opening his eyes to stare into Bucky’s. He can’t help but smile, and Bucky can’t help return a wobbly one back, cheeks still damp from his tears. Steve wipes them again with his thumbs and leans in to press a feather-light kiss to Bucky’s forehead. Bucky leans into it and moves to wrap his arms around Steve’s neck.

  
This is what it is like to watch a human being fall apart. That touch-starved but skittish body language that he constantly exudes, especially around Steve, has practically crumbled. Steve needs Bucky to understand that this isn’t just a kiss, but years of love and affection, just for him. So many memories. So many laughs and bloody noses. So many stolen glances or bumping shoulders or lingering touches that lasted too long but never long enough for Steve. This was his best friend, his partner in crime, his brother in war, his last thought before falling asleep night before, and the seventy years he had no control over, and what seems like a lifetime before that.

  
“I’m right here,” Steve murmurs into the side of Bucky’s neck while his chin rests on Steve’s shoulder, still trying to steady his breathing and shaking hands. Steve’s nose grazes up the side and then he pulls back a little to look at Bucky again. “Not going anywhere.”

  
Bucky nods and just stares back at Steve for a minute. Steve couldn’t look away if he wanted to. Bucky needs to - he has to - understand. This has been a love eighty-something years in the making. Steve has gone to war with himself so many time for wanting to do this, wanting to hold Bucky when things got too much, wanting to soothe him and put him back together again. He feels crazy, but has also never felt more clarity in his entire life.

  
“Thank you,” Bucky croaks out quietly. Steve nods back at him now. “Can we go back to bed?”

  
“Yeah, Buck. C’mon,” he replies, stepping back so Bucky can slide off the counter, finding Steve’s hand with his flesh one. Steve leads him over to Bucky’s side and helps him crawl back under the covers. He lets out a small shiver, as they both are only in their boxers, and it is winter, but Steve doesn’t comment on it. Just straightens up and let’s Bucky know he is going to get another blanket out of the closet on the other side of the room. Bucky nods with a yawn, shuffling even further under the blankets already wrapped around his tired body.

  
Steve grabs what he is looking for and walks over to his side of the bed, spreading the blanket out over Bucky first and then climbing under the covers too. He slides into the middle where Bucky is, opening his arm as an invitation for Bucky to curl into him, still giving Bucky a choice. Always his choice. Bucky gratefully snuggles into his chest and Steve eases his arm around Bucky’s waist, pulling the blankets closer to Bucky as he does, tucking him in. He’s going to be overheated in no time, with Steve being a human furnace and four blankets covering their bodies, but he’s almost positive neither of them will make the move to pull away. He knows he won’t. Steve has wanted this for so long. It feels so right, and they will have a lot of things to talk about tomorrow, but for now, Steve just wants to breathe in his musky, sweet smell and press small kisses to the top of his head. This road to recovery has been long and hard for Bucky, for both of them really, but Steve will be damned if he can’t make sure Bucky feels safe and can sleep peacefully for as long as he can.

  
Steve nuzzles his face into Bucky’s ruffled hair, and Bucky rubs his nose against Steve’s chest. “I’m always going to be right here, okay? Please don’t ever doubt that,” Steve says, and Bucky nods letting Steve know he understands while releasing some of the tension in his tired body.

  
Steve doesn’t say anymore, just gazes at the moon he can see through the trees outside their window, hoping Bucky will settle in to sleep.

  
He watches the pine trees sway in the dim moonlight and thinks about all the times he and Bucky had curled into each other, desperate to keep warm on frigid winter nights. How many times Steve would press his cold hands into Bucky’s chest, hoping to warm them but feeling guilty that Bucky had to endure icicles on his bare skin every time. How many times Steve buried his face into Bucky’s neck, nose grazing across it lightly, hoping thank you, I love you, came across in some way without the words leaving Steve’s chattering lips. How many times Bucky would get back up to find another blanket to put over Steve to make damned sure he could get as warm as possible. How many times he saved Steve, put him back together.

  
Steve feels Bucky’s breathing deepen, evening out, and he can’t help himself from pressing one last feathery kiss to his head, whispering, “I love you” into the silence of their room.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I just want to lo–love you like a no–normal person,” Bucky stammers out, trying to control his crying.

Steve squeezes his eyes tighter as the sun outside fills the room with bright, white light. He knows he should open his eyes, but he just can’t bring himself to do it. He’s so comfortable and warm, save the intrusive sun. He wants to roll over and pull the covers over his head. He wants to sleep the day away, something he never gets to do, minus the seventy years he did, in fact, do just that. But these days his body wakes him up at the crack of dawn and he can’t lay in bed staring at the ceiling for more than five minutes before a nagging guilt tells him to get up and go for a run.

Right now though, the coziness of the bed and the warmth that has seeped into the sheets during the night makes it really difficult for Steve to even try to roll over. His brain becomes a little less foggy and he shifts his legs, his toes brushing gently into a shin –

_Bucky_. Steve’s eyes fly open and he instantly regrets it as the sun nearly blinds him. He squeezes them shut again, grumbling internally about not shutting the blinds last night. He slowly opens them again, letting his eyes adjust as they fall onto the sight of the sleeping man next to him. Bucky’s facing Steve so his back is to the sun, and he has the blankets pulled up to his chin, hair fanned out on the pillow, all lines of worry smoothed out on his face. He looks at peace. Steve’s heart swells with too much love and adoration for just waking up, but Bucky’s always brought these feelings out of him at the most untimely moments. One time, in the middle of the war, which still feels like yesterday, he saw Bucky laugh at something Jim Morita said to him, as Steve was practicing throwing his shield. That laugh, that tipped back head and eyes squeezed shut so tightly with a hand clutching his stomach, that somehow caused Steve realize again all the things he loves about this man, but to also forget that the shield would quickly come back to smack him in the shoulder if he wasn’t paying attention. He has loved Bucky with to his whole heart for more than a lifetime, and waking up to the sight of him, warm, bundled, and at ease, seems to stretch out his heart’s capacity more and more every day.

Steve quietly shifts closer to Bucky, running his left hand along the empty space on the bed between them to Bucky’s waist, gently pulling them closer together. He leans in and places the softest kiss he can to Bucky’s head, breathing in his all too familiar scent, and soaking up the warmth of Bucky’s space that probably came from himself anyway. Bucky stirs a bit, cuddling into Steve without opening his eyes. Steve brushes his fingers delicately up and down Bucky’s spine, causing goosebumps to rise on his skin. He sleepily crosses his ankles over Steve’s, letting out a soft, contented sigh that instantly goes right to Steve’s groin.

Steve inhales a long breath, trying to steady himself because _no, no, no_ he cannot have those thoughts about Bucky right now. He cannot let Bucky think that what happened between them, what _is happening_ between them, is just about sex or lust or desperation of some sort. God, Steve wants everything, he does, but it could take years for Bucky to even want to do anything more than kiss Steve. Hell, Steve has no idea if Bucky is going to feel the same when he opens his eyes and looks at Steve. Last night, that could have been confusion and panic, it could have meant the opposite of what Steve wants it to mean, it –

Bucky stirs as he must feel Steve’s breath and heartbeat quicken, even though he’s trying desperately to control it. He feels Bucky pull back a little, and Steve looks down at Bucky’s face to meet slowly blinking eyes.

Steve licks his lips and swallows as Bucky comes further into consciousness, registering Steve and his surroundings. Steve’s heart is still erratic in his chest.

Bucky just continues to stare at Steve, expressionless, if that’s possible. It worries Steve, and he searches Bucky’s face, trying to figure out what he’s thinking. He should say something. Break the tension and panic that is exuding from his body.

“Hi –” Steve starts.

“I want to kiss you,” Bucky whispers into the small space between them. His eyes search Steve’s face now. Steve blinks a few times before nodding to Bucky with a small smile. Bucky takes that as an okay to proceed and he shifts impossibly closer to Steve, and leans in to gingerly press his lips to Steve’s. It’s like time stops for Steve. Nothing matters but the feel of Bucky’s mouth against his, his warm breath against his face when he exhales, the way the tips of his fingers lightly touch Steve’s sternum.

It’s a struggle for Steve to hold himself back, but he knows Bucky must take this wherever he feels comfortable. Steve wants so badly to part his lips and lick into Bucky’s mouth, to roll on top of him and kiss every inch of Bucky that he can, to run his fingers through Bucky’s hair and make him moan. He can’t. He _can’t, can’t, cannot_ have these thoughts. He has to let Bucky open up, metaphorically and physically, to Steve when it is the right time. And now certainly not the right time for Steve to allow his mind to wander to places it’s gone so many times before.

Bucky pulls back after a few more moments, and gazes at Steve once again. Steve can feel his heart thudding in his chest. Bucky must feel it too because he carefully moves his fingers over Steve’s chest, probably trying to soothe _him_ the way Steve always tries to soothe Bucky.

“Hi,” Bucky murmurs, glancing down to Steve’s mouth and then back up again.

“Hi again,” Steve responds, “You okay?” He lets his own fingertips slowly trace the notches in Bucky’s spine.

“Yeah, I’m good,” Bucky, says, shivering a little from Steve’s touch. “Was that okay?” His voice sounds impossibly small. Like a child shyly hoping for approval. It makes Steve’s heart clench.

“Yeah, Buck. That was fine. This – this is fine.” Bucky gives him a small smile and then ducks his head into Steve’s chest, pressing his nose into Steve’s skin.

“Are you really okay?” Steve asks tentatively after a minute, fingers still moving on Bucky’s back. His skin is so warm and soft, even his metal arm, which always collects heat during the night, even if Bucky does try to avoid touching Steve with his left arm.

Bucky nods against Steve, his nose tickling against the base of Steve’s throat. It satisfies Steve’s worrisome nature for the moment.

“I never want to stop kissing you, but I know I have to,” Bucky adds after a bit of silence. Steve takes inhales deeply, processing Bucky’s confession.

“Why do you think you need to stop?” Steve asks carefully, hand resting now on the small of Bucky’s back. _You’re safe_ , he thinks. _Please don’t ever stop kissing me_.

Bucky tips his head back into the pillows a bit to look up at Steve, adverting his gaze for a second and then meeting Steve’s eyes timidly.

“If I don’t stop kissing you I will want more and I don’t – I mean – I don’t expect you to give me anything more than this.” He has a hard time maintaining eye contact with Steve, but he does try, and he takes another piece of Steve’s heart for his own, like he does every time their eyes meet.

“Bucky, I want whatever you want. I –” he chuckles lightly before continuing, “I can promise you that. I just want you to be comfortable with anything you chose to do. I want you to be comfortable with… me.” He sheepishly shrugs his shoulders a little, still looking down at Bucky with half a smile.

“I am comfortable with you Steve. It’s me, you know? I’m not really comfortable with myself.” He returns Steve’s smile, if only a little sad on the edges.

“I know, Buck, I know. And it really is okay to feel that way. And I know I probably say this too much, but, its gonna take some time before you can know who you are again and feel at ease with yourself. It’s okay too if that, you know, never fully happens…” He spreads his fingers out on Bucky’s lower back. A reminder. _I’m right here. You’re okay_.

Bucky nods with pursed lips and looks down at Steve’s chest, and then shifts up the bed in Steve’s embrace so their heads rest evenly against the pillow. He takes a deep breath and then asks, “Can I kiss you again?”

Steve let’s out a quiet breath, looking at him seriously. “Buck, I want you to know now that you can kiss me whenever you want. You don’t have to ask, okay? You can kiss me how ever you want, when ever you want, but I want you to make sure that _you_ want it.” He responds quietly.

“But…”

“Buck, I’m always going to want you to kiss me. Really, it’s… It’s okay… It’s perfect.” He gives Bucky a reassuring smile. Bucky scans his face again and then moves his right hand to Steve’s cheek, rubbing his thumb against Steve’s stubble.

“You can use your other hand too, if you want. Its okay. I just… I want you to know that anything you do with me is okay and I will let you know if its not.” He holds Bucky’s gaze, trying to show his sincerity.

“Okay,” Bucky murmurs, but he doesn’t move his left arm from where it is wedged between himself and Steve. Steve shifts instead, running his foot lightly against the calf of Bucky’s leg, which are between Steve’s own two. Bucky inhales once more and then leans in to kiss Steve again.

Steve stills, letting Bucky take this at his own pace, letting him lead. After a few moments he tentatively licks against Steve’s lips, and Steve slowly parts them. Bucky steals his mouth even further, slowly running his tongue against Steve’s as Steve inhales deeply. Their mouths move in sync, Steve only ever a beat behind Bucky’s quick decisions. He lets a small sigh escape, Steve can’t help it, and Bucky moves his hand from Steve’s cheek to behind Steve’s head, blunt nails running against his scalp. Steve has to hold in another sigh. He has to keep himself under control, even though it has been so _long_. He’s as touch starved as Bucky is, but he needs Bucky to know that Steve only wants whatever he wants, whatever that may be.

The kisses are slow and languid. They part a couple of times to catch their breath, but Bucky always moves back in to seal his lips over Steve’s. Steve tips his head to the side a little further and then Bucky suddenly moves his hand from Steve’s head and grips the pillow tightly, exhaling sharply. Steve pulls away momentarily to check what’s wrong, but Bucky just leans up and over Steve, so Steve is flat on his back with Bucky’s upper half lightly draped over him, forearms on either side of Steve’s head. Steve looks up at Bucky, who is shaking a little, his hair falling down around Steve.

Steve reaches his arms around Bucky running them along his sides and back. Bucky leans down, pressing his forehead to Steve’s with a frustrated sigh.

“Hey, Buck it’s okay. Sweetheart, it’s all right.” He runs his hands up Bucky’s chest to hold his face in his hands. “I’ve got you. M’right here.”

Bucky moves so he is over Steve entirely, Steve spreading his legs so Bucky can fit between them. He slides down a bit, dropping his head to Steve’s chest. Steve cards his fingers through Bucky’s hair, trying to soothe him.

“I just want –” He starts, rubbing his nose into Steve and sighing again, still frustrated.

“What is it, Buck?” Steve presses a feathery kiss into Bucky’s hair.

“I just want _everything_ and it’s so _unfair_.” His grits out, gripping the pillow hard and then releasing it.

Steve’s heart starts racing again, mind itching to wander, but he has to sort out Bucky’s thoughts first.

“Hey, look at me, Buck.” Bucky slowly looks up it him, looking defeated. Steve wants to take that pain away so badly it hurts. “It’s alright. One step at a time. We’ll… We’ll get there. Baby steps, just like anything else. I just don’t want us to push this too far just yet.”

Bucky just slumps into Steve, looking down at Steve’s chest, disappointment clear on his face.

“Bucky, I’m not saying no. I’m just saying not this morning, okay? This is so new for both of us and too much in one shot could do more bad than good.” Steve’s at war with himself, half his brain yelling at him to flip them over and claim every inch of Bucky with his mouth, but the other half is reminding him to go _slow_. Bucky turns his head to lay his cheek on Steve’s chest, looking at the wall on the far side of the room.

Steve brushes his hair away from his face, running his thumb along Bucky’s cheek before and idea comes to mind.

“Sit up a moment with me, will ya?” He asks lightly, and it takes him a second, but Bucky leans up and away from Steve, shifting so he is sitting cross-legged, but still facing Steve, who does the same. Steve brings his hands up to cradle Bucky’s head, keeping his gaze steady for a few seconds before leaning in and kissing Bucky’s cheek. He keeps it up, moving his lips to press light kisses all over Bucky’s face and neck. “Shhh,” he whispers as Bucky shivers from Steve’s touch. His thumbs trace the edge of his jaw as he places one last kiss to Bucky’s forehead, letting it linger for a moment, before he pulls away to look at Bucky.

“Let’s go make some breakfast, okay?” He gives Bucky a lopsided grin, and Bucky tries to return it while nodding and letting Steve help him off the bed. Guilt spreads through Steve when he can’t help noticing that Bucky got a little hard from their ministrations, and all Steve wants is to stop them in their tracks and take care of that, take care of _Bucky_ , but that makes the guilt settling in his stomach even worse.

~

Steve glances out the window behind the sink as he scrubs their plates clean, noticing that it snowed a few inches last night, a white blanket hugging the pine trees outside.

Steve glances to his right at Bucky who is drying the pan they made their pancakes in and also tugging his sweater sleeves up so water doesn’t soak the ends. Steve smiles fondly at him, catching Bucky’s eye, who blushes at the ground with a small smile on his lips. Steve turns back to the plates in the sink, still smiling.

“So, I thought we could maybe take a hike today. It snowed a bit last night, so everything looks really pretty out there. Maybe we could take some pictures?” Steve glances back over at Bucky again who looks over to him too.

“Yeah, that sounds good,” Bucky agrees with a small smile. He places the pan in the cabinet by the stove and then picks up the towel again to dry off the plates Steve placed on the drying wrack. They both know that Steve could have easily washed the dishes and then left them to air dry, but this is something Bucky likes to be apart of. It makes him feel useful, Steve thinks.

“Do you want to shower first and then we’ll go check out the snow? Or are you good to go?” Steve wipes his own hands dry with the other towel hanging on the stove door.

“I’m good. I just want to put more layers on,” Bucky says from behind the cabinet door, putting the dried plates away now. He closes it and turns to look at Steve, who has crossed his arms and is leaning against the counter

“Okay. I think I’m just going to grab a quick one and then we’ll go. Does that sound alright?”

“Mhm,” Bucky says, walking over to Steve and pausing for a moment before leaning in to press a chaste kiss to Steve’s cheek. When he pulls back Steve ducks his chin to his chest as a grin spreads across his face. He looks back up at Bucky who is smiling too, looking more content than he did earlier. He turns around to walk out of the kitchen, and Steve follows him after a moment, both of them padding slowly up the stairs.

Steve steps into his bedroom, well, _their_ bedroom he guesses, behind Bucky who heads to the dresser where he knows Steve’s thickest sweaters are, and Steve makes his way into the master bathroom attached to the bedroom for his shower, turning on the water and letting the steam fill up the room. He switches on the exhaust fan because it may be winter, but he still gets too warm too easily. He strips of his clothes and then moves to step under the warm spray, goosebumps rising on his skin as the warm water drips down his body. It feels so good and helps to instantly ease some of the tension he is always carrying around with him these days, especially this morning. He tried so hard not to get wound up, to let the kisses stay innocent with Bucky. It’s so hard because Steve has wanted to kiss Bucky, to do everything with Bucky, for as long as he can remember. Holding back in the forties was hard; holding back now is even more challenging.

He lets his head hit the wall, letting the soap he spread around himself drip off, the cool tile helping to ease his mind. Maybe if he just got some release this would be easier. He presses his forehead into the wall further, reaching up to squeeze his eyes. God, he wishes Bucky was in here with him. Helping each other ease tension, making each other moan, making –

“No,” Steve grits out loud to himself. He can’t have these thoughts. _God, what is wrong with him?_ He just… It’s so hard to quiet his brain these days. He is only human and he needs the release. He _knows_ he needs the release. He feels like he’s dying for it, because it really has been awhile for him, and _my God_ he feels weak. He braces his left forearm against the tile, head still pressed next to it. He reaches down and takes a hold of himself, already half hard because of this morning and his _stupid fucking brain_.

Just once. He’ll make it quick and quiet. He moves his right hand to thumb his slit, and then down, twisting just how he knows feels best. He lets out a breathy sigh because _oh yes_ , he needs this. Half his brain is still screaming at him to get a grip, but the other, his weaker half, is telling him to make this good. _Make it count, Steve_.

He lets his hand move over himself, sending shivers down his spine that have nothing to do with the cold tile. He lets his immagination take over, thinking things he’s thought countless times. Bucky’s hand instead of his. Bucky on his bed, beneath him, moaning and clenching around Steve. Bucky begging for it, whimpering and Steve giving him anything and everything. Bucky’s thighs wrapped around him, pulling him in impossibly deeper, Bucky scratching his nails down his back, Bucky saying the most filthy things Steve could ever _dream_ of, Bucky –

He comes suddenly, with a shout before he has time to bite down on his wrist, but he accidentally whacks the shampoo bottle off its shelf in the process and it falls to the floor, landing on Steve’s foot.

“Fuck!” He jumps and moves to grab at his throbbing foot, almost slipping on the wet tiles and dizzy as he still comes back down to earth. He manages to turn around and lean against the wall, letting himself slide down so he is sitting.

This is it. This is the man he has become. Letting himself be pushed so close to the edge that he literally falls off of it with zero grace whatsoever. He watches as the evidence of his weakness washes down the drain as he catches his breath and lets out a frustrated groan.

He wishes he could watch his guilt disappear down with it.

He sits there for another minute or so, trying to put himself back together, knowing full well that Bucky is on the other side of the door. He eventually reaches up to shut the water off and then stands on still shaky legs to dry himself off with his towel. He avoids looking into the massive mirror across from the shower, not wanting to look at his own guilt-ridden reflection.

He towels off, running it over his head to dry his hair, and then secures the towel around his waist, opening the door to step out into the cooler temperature of the bedroom. Bucky is sitting on the bed, Steve’s own navy blue sweater hugging the muscles in Bucky’s back.

He opens the drawer of the same dresser to pull out a thick, gray sweater, towel still snuggly tied around his waist.

“You okay? Heard you shout in there,” Bucky asks from his spot on the bed, pulling on another pair of sweatpants.

Steve drops the sweater and then fumbles to pick it back up again. _Zero grace whatsoever_. He straightens and looks at Bucky, but he can feel his blush creeping down his bare chest. He hopes to God Bucky doesn’t notice, but he knows he probably will.

“Uh, yeah. Yeah I just…dropped the shampoo bottle on my foot and it hurt,” he says sheepishly, trying to sound casual, and moving to pull on a long sleeve shirt that he had pulled out with the sweater.

“Oh. Well, I’m glad you are okay. I was going to come check on you, but I figured you’d call me if you needed help.” He stands up, tying the drawstring of his pants a little tighter, still looking at Steve, still so ever observant with eyes that absolutely see right through him.

“Yeah, yeah thanks, Buck. Thanks for looking out for me.” He smiles at Bucky, still trying to fain a slight nonchalance, as he bends down to dig through the drawer to find his favorite pair of sweatpants. _Way to make it count, Steve_.

“You’re welcome,” Bucky murmurs, eyes still reading all of Steve and his not-so-invisible shame.

~

Their boots crunch through the mixture of ice and freshly fallen snow as they trek down one of the trails behind Stark’s cabin.

There is supposed to be a good view of the Adirondack Mountains down this trail, or so Tony had told him before they left the city. Steve loved hiking now, fresh air doing him good and it allowed his brain to enjoy some peace and quiet away from the chaotic life of being an Avenger. Steve wouldn’t change what he had going on now, don’t get him wrong, but a nice walk in the woods never failed to help him feel a little bit better.

Bucky, ridiculously bundled up Bucky, trudges along next to Steve, taking in the sight of the tall, snow covered pine trees that surround them. The high sun cast rays down onto their path, glinting off the snow, making everything that much more beautiful. Steve hopes Bucky is okay, being out here, knowing that winter is his least favorite chunk of the year, but he knew Bucky would voice it if he wanted to head back. Or, at least Steve really hoped he would. They were the classic ‘suffer in silence,’ the two of them.

Up ahead, Steve spots a clearing in the trees that gives a great view of the mountains and he eagerly heads towards it to take a picture with the camera hanging from his neck, balancing out the weight of his shield on his back (just in case).

He walks a few more meters off the trail, realizing after a moment that Bucky had stopped and was still on the trail looking up in awe at the big tree he was standing under. Steve smiles at the sight, and then turns back to the view. He would only be just a minute–

“Steve! Steve _no_!” Bucky shouts suddenly, making Steve whip around to face him.

Bucky comes rushing up to him and grabs his camera-free arm, yanking him back towards the trail.

“Buck wh–”

“That is a _cliff_ , Steve! You can’t! No, no, no, please, Steve _no_!” He sounds so panicked that it startles Steve, only giving him a split second to catch up as to why Bucky is so upset. They finally get back to the path, Steve holding onto Bucky now, trying to steady him.

“Bucky its okay. I’m fine, see–”

“ _That was a fucking cliff, Steve_ ,” Bucky all but snarls at him, ripping his arm out of Steve’s hold and taking a few steps. “Why would you go near that, Steve, _why_?”

“Easy, pal, it’s okay. I’m sorry, I’m okay. Let’s just go home, alright?” Steve wants to step closer to Bucky but he knows better in this moment.

“ _No_ ,” Bucky bites out at him, slipping in the snow a bit as he jerks his arm in Steve’s direction, pointing at him. “It’s not _okay_ , Steve, it’s not okay. That was not okay, Steve, it’s not– it’s n–” He suddenly bends down to grab onto his knees, a sob ripping from him, and Steve springs to life, moving to his side to rub his back and crouch down to help him through this. Panic attacks were a normality for them at this point, but they still made Steve worry a thousand times more than usual.

“Buck, I’m right here. Can you breathe for me? Good. Now another one. Take a deep breathe. There you go, I’m so proud of you. Easy, sweetheart. Here’s my hand,” Steve soothes, trying to keep the panic attack from getting worse as Bucky let’s out sobs and forced breaths into the cold air. Bucky takes Steve’s hand, still hunched over, and Steve squeezes it, waiting for Bucky to squeeze back. This usually seems to help, but if Steve was feeling guilty before he feels absolutely _horrible_ now. This is the last thing he wanted to bring upon Bucky today. How could he not have realized what he was doing?

It takes Bucky a few more minutes, and quite a bit of squeezing and Steve’s encouragement to calm himself down more, but Steve can feel him shaking from where he is crouching in front of Bucky’s bent over frame. Finally, he starts to straighten up and Steve stands with him. Bucky’s cheeks are tear stained and he’s sniffling, but still gripping Steve’s hand in his. He looks at Steve for a moment and then moves in to fold himself into Steve, clutching onto the front on his jacket, still shaking a little.

Steve wraps his arms around Bucky, holding him close, and letting out the breath he had been holding. He rubs Bucky’s back, as Bucky tucks his head into Steve’s neck and scarf, trying to control his erratic breathing as Steve breathes out _shh’s_ in to Bucky’s hat-covered head.

He gives it a minute or so before whispering, “Let’s go home, okay?”

~

Bucky is curled up on the couch, facing in to it, blankets pulled up to his chin. His post-traumatic stress disorder, among a few other major things plaguing Bucky’s mental stability, exhausts him. It drains him, causing him to stare into space at the back of the couch, defeated, and it makes Steve want to fling his shield at something because Bucky doesn’t deserve to be suffering this much all the time, no matter how many months he’s been back with Steve and the other Avengers. Sam told Steve that this would take time, maybe even years, and that patience and understanding was Steve’s best hope. Bucky’s mind needed to heal on its own, no matter how badly Steve wanted to take the pain away; to place it on his own shoulders if he had to. If that makes him a martyr then so be it, because all Steve wants in this world is for Bucky to be _okay_ again.

Steve places Bucky’s mug of chamomile tea down on the coffee table and sits down gently on the end of the couch, by Bucky’s feet. He reaches out to softly rub his hand up and down Bucky’s calf. Bucky doesn’t even flinch like he usually does when someone touches him unexpectedly. He just continues staring into the couch cushions, shoulders curling in, covered by the thick blanket. Steve just continues to rub Bucky’s leg, an anchor, just so he knows he’s there. He takes sips from his own mug of tea, watching the fire in the fireplace flicker and snap. His guilt is gnawing away at him as the minutes tick by, but there is nothing he can do to change that. Bucky comes first.

“I’m sorry,” Bucky croaks out when Steve is nearly finished with his tea. Steve sets the mug down on the table and shifts further up the couch, positioning himself by Bucky’s hips. He reaches out to gently place his hand on Bucky’s head, pushing his hair away from his face.

“You don’t have anything to be sorry for, Buck,” Steve whispers, resting his hand on Bucky’s head.

“I screamed at you, Steve,” Bucky’s voice is so thick and he sounds so small. Steve’s surprised his heart hasn’t stopped working because its always breaking these days.

“You were upset and I shouldn’t have done what I did. It’s okay.” He needs to reassure Bucky of this, but he feels that it’s not going to work. Patience, though, he must remember this.

Bucky slowly shifts and turns over so he is facing Steve, still clutching tightly to the blanket beneath his chin. He can’t meet Steve’s eyes.

“I don’t want to be like this anymore,” he whispers, a broken sob catching the end of his words. He starts to cry again, shoulders shaking. Steve leans down and fits himself on the couch parallel to Bucky, letting him curl into his chest, wet tears falling on to Steve’s skin. He wraps his arms around Bucky and just holds him.

“I know, sweetheart, I know. It’s not fair what happened to you, but you have made a lot of progress, and I know that doesn’t change how you feel right now, but just know that I am so, so proud of you and I am also so, so sorry,” he says gently, kissing Bucky’s temple.

“I just want to lo–love you like a no–normal person,” Bucky stammers out, trying to control his crying. Steve, on the other hand, has to take a moment before he responds because not only did Bucky just confess to loving Steve, but he also thinks he is so abnormal that he is not actually capable of that.

“Sweetheart, listen to me. Neither of us are normal, okay? And that’s fine… We don’t need to be normal. I–I love you too, Bucky. You know that right? I really do. And, you what else? I’d rather love you for who you are, good and bad, than love someone else who is not you.” He keeps running his hands around Bucky’s back, so nervous for laying his heart out on the line, but this is Bucky and he’ll be damned if he doesn’t know how much Steve loves him.

Bucky looks up at him through wet lashes. He looks exhausted and relieved at the same time. Steve smiles warmly at him, hoping Bucky can believe him. He has loved this man for what feels like eons and he will spend that same amount of time plus more showing this man how much he means to him. Bucky leans in a bit, pausing when their lips are inches apart, breath still coming out a little shaky. Steve leans in the rest of the way to rub his nose affectionately with Bucky’s and then presses their lips together. Bucky inhales deeply and then lets out a long exhale. When they part Bucky’s eyes are closed. Steve tenderly kisses Bucky’s forehead, breathing in his all to familiar sent.

“Sleep, my love. I’m right here. Just sleep,” he murmurs, and Bucky responds by curling into him even more and tucking his feet underneath Steve’s legs. Steve knows they have so much to talk about. He has a million things he wants to tell Bucky and a million things he wants to show him and do with him and share with him, but right now its okay that Bucky’s tea has gone completely cold and that Steve is left with his racing thoughts because his best friend is getting the peace he needs, and Steve would fight a million wars if it meant holding Bucky in his arms for just a little bit longer than yesterday.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soooo sorry it has taken me so long to update. Life, you know? Being a college student is the worst sometimes.
> 
> Hope you all like this (angsty feels and all).
> 
> Let me know what you think!
> 
> Andrea xo


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